


These little earthquakes

by BurrrdBrainedInsomnia



Series: Aftershocks [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mentions of Murder, No detailed mentions of rape or noncon but it plays a heavy theme, No smut between Jack and Pitch, Prostitution, Tired AF Jack, mentions of assault, or I suppose this is a commentary on that trope, protective pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurrrdBrainedInsomnia/pseuds/BurrrdBrainedInsomnia
Summary: As though sensing the gaze upon him, he looked up with wide, pleading eyes that seemed carved straight from stained, lethal ice.Christ, he was far too tiny.Delicate, one might have described the sight of his protruding ribs and collarbones. Near death, another might have said and have been closer to the truth of the matter.---This is a bleak, murderous AU set to the tone of the ABO trope.Pitch, while being a socially unskilled alpha, is relentless in his pursuit to eradicate those taking advantage of the ignorance and general indifference towards omegas basic rights to a normal, calm, dignified life. In the middle of it all, Jack, while knowing all too well how little society cares about his kind, is just trying to catch a break from everything.--Please note, this gets dark
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Series: Aftershocks [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568251
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	1. Dire circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl, I never expected myself to write anything outta this trope, but here we are. Work has been frustrating and I needed a break from everything, and so, this is the result.  
> Embrace the storm is not on hiatus, but updates might be a little slow.
> 
> This is gonna be disgusting in more ways than one, so do beware of that. No smut between our two favourite idiots, but heavy mentions of past abuse, trauma and a societal structure that basically boils down to 'shut up and accept your biology'.
> 
> Pitch has shitty communication skills to start with, but it will get better.  
> ___
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> Bodily fluids, mentions of possible assault and ministered drugs
> 
> Enjoy <3

The bell above the door rung thrice, the shitty cup just purchased barely doing anything to keep the coffee from burning his palm, as Pitch exited the little corner store and stalked out onto the cold street beyond. Idly, with thoughts of the meeting that he was heading to crowding at the forefronts of his mind, Pitch huddled further into his thick winter coat, the man scrunching up his nose at the smell from the passing alleys to his left, as he walked ahead.

The place was riddled with filth and literal decay, the stone beneath his feet wet and soggy from things best left undescribed, but just as well. It was to be expected from this part of town. Nothing thrived here. Nothing could grow. Those that came here, came to die or to seek refuge from horrors that rose beyond what the sane mind could comprehend. It was one of the things that his crew of carefully picked out members sought to eradicate; not the filth itself, but the reason for it even existing in the-

_The smell._

It hit him strongly, the coffee burning his hand, as he stopped dead in his tracks, hard enough that the beta that had walked behind him nearly bumped into his back. Stunned, Pitch felt his amber eyes shut tight on instinct, as they passed a curse and darted around. As he opened them again, it was to find his hand red and angry, the resulting burn light but stinging, as he willed his twitchy fingers to let go of what remained of the crushed up cup.

_That_ smell.

Swiftly, he wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck – the lower parts of his face covered with a hand as well, as he braced himself and walked down the alley.

Midway to the ends of it, he stopped.

A skinny excuse of a boy was collapsed against a graffitied dumpster, bruised, bare front pressed to it, the air fogging around his flushed face in gentle puffs of clear, white mists, which came in quick waves with each of his shallow, rapid breaths. As though sensing the gaze upon him, he looked up with wide, pleading eyes that seemed carved straight from stained, lethal ice.

_Christ, he was far too tiny._

Delicate, one might have described the sight of his protruding ribs and collarbones. Near death, another might have said and have been closer to the truth of the matter.

The exhausted omega was not nearly clothed enough for the foul weather currently beating down on them, dressed only in grey, ripped up slacks and a pair of mismatched red and black slippers as he was - three fingers squashed deep inside of himself, too far gone for words, any coherency, as the snow fell onto his trembling form. With clear hints of need driving him, the boy kept at it, making the already poignant scent in the air between them thicken, to which Pitch pressed his scarf harder against his mouth, his free hand settling over a crack in the dumpsters cheap plastic, nails digging into it, as he shifted himself and squatted down.

The scent went beyond his control, creating a new sense of law, as it sang to his biology in terms that neither could deny.

_Or, at least, so people claimed._

Immediately, the boy latched onto him, fingers slick and dirty, as they snapped up and dug into the front of Pitchs coat, and while there was strength in his frail grip, the tugs remained weak, as he tried to pull the man down with him.

One slim hand to the boys heated chest, it took little effort to resist and hold him at bay. Idly, Pitch fished out his phone from his pocket, the battery complaining with a few flashing remarks, still stinging fingers quick, as he punched in the memorized number. Meanwhile, the boys nose had somehow managed to work its way under the mans scarf, the pinpoint of contact burning hot, as it rubbed against his scent gland.

As the boy breathed in deep and moaned sweetly in relief, Pitch did his best not to breathe at all.

With a low, discontent huff, Pitch scrunched up his nose in disgust at the needy, little noises escaping the boy, the hand not busy clutching his phone in a death grip forcefully removing the others straying own away from his inner thigh, before once more pushing him back.

It would only prolong the boys’ heat if an alpha took him now, and by the looks of it, one already had.

With a tic of impatience, pressed to his ear, the phone rang twice, static filtering through for a beat, before the annoyed voice of the office’ secretary clipped a curt,

_‘Yes?’_

The shallow breath that Pitch drew immediately made him feel lightheaded.

_‘’Cancel my 8am meeting.’’_ The man clipped harsher than he had meant to. _‘’I have a situation on my hands.’’_

\--

No one intervened as he scooped the boy up, carried him away, stuffed him in the back of his car and drove off. At the crisis center, no questions were asked, as he was handed the necessary forms to fill out, and while he was clearly not wanted there, no one told him to leave.

Impassively, he tugged the papers under one arm, Pitch watching the nurses run their tests, while administering gods knew what drugs to the boy. If anything, they knew what they were doing. A sleepy haze took to the boys’ eyes, plush, cracked lips forming a lazy grin as he collapsed, sank back onto the sterile pillows and sighed in pleasured appreciation.

For a second, if only for the fraction of a moment that would mean nothing in the grand scheme of things, it seemed the veil of the heat lifted – the boy blinking rapidly through the blur that shone in his eyes, as he finally seemed to truly register his surroundings. A clear and certain sense of understanding dawned on him then, shining through and lingering in the stale air between them, before the second wave of the drugs took over, dulled his focus and swallowed him whole again.

It had been there though, the silent raw gratefulness that an omega rarely got handed for free beamed at Pitch so strongly, that it seemed a wonder the boy had not cracked under the weight of it all.

Or, perhaps, he had. Regardless, it was none of his business.

With a slight tightness to his lip, Pitch tugged the papers free from under his arm and looked at the untouched forms again - the pen that he had been given coming out to tab against the clipboards edge, as he thought it over. Subdued by the heat, he knew nothing of the boy but the multitude of scents clinging to him, and even that had seen hopelessly muddied. Truly, he had no real information, no leads on the now passed out omega that two nurses were busy cleaning up, but considering where he had found him, he could make his guesses and so, while the slots on the papers remained blank, the answers that he might have been able to conclude were none too gentle.

Most likely, this omega had no family left and no one would claim him as their own either, which – if that was indeed true - would also mean that he could not pay for whatever total amount the medical bill would eventually cash out at.

The pen tabbed twice over the last slot on the page in uncertainty, Pitch more than willing to ignore the beta at the counter still waiting patiently for him to return the forms so that they could start registering the nonexistent information that he had on the boy.

It was none of his business. Beaten, in heat and neglected as he was, the boy would have died if he had left him where he was. It was sensible and no one would fault him for it if he left it at that.

Thrice, the pen tabbed against the edge, before coming to an abrupt and final halt. With one last look up at the unconscious omega and then down at the empty slot, he pushed the cap off the pen and left his number under ‘contacts’.

\--

Little less than a week later, while working on a case, he received a message that the boy was fit to leave the center. Seventeen minutes later, while swiftly skimming through and softly humming to himself on the section reporting of the others disturbingly poor physical state, he received another that the boy had upped and fled the establishment.

With a thoughtful huff, Pitch drummed his nails over the tables hard wood below, the man scrolling down to read over what should have been the conditions of the boys release and of what laws he had subsequently broken by running off. Nothing too serious it showed out to be – a stern warning and an extra fee to be paid for the trouble, that, to be fair, hardly mattered much in the face of the ridiculous four-digit number that already glared up at him at the end of it all.

Impassively, Pitch paid the bill, before pressing the button to make the screen go black. It was out of his hands now, he mused, as he tugged his phone away, grabbed his coffee close and put his focus back onto the case at hand.

_Thoroughly over and done with._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have 14 pages written for this, but we'll see how long it gets. If any tags needs to be added, do not hesitate to ask for it/them.


	2. Subtle aftershocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pitch’ behavior is downright passive abusive at best in the beginning – this will get better, but please beware that he’s honestly acting like garbage.
> 
> Please beware of the already mentioned warnings and the following as well:  
> ___
> 
> Warnings:  
> Mentions of rape, mentions of assault, detailed and vague depictions of the aftermath of murder, body horror, dead bodies, administered drugs, Pitch’ shitty social skills and generally rough language.
> 
> Aight, enjoy <3

‘’You ready?’’ Bunnymund asked, as he idly fingered the hilt of his concealed dagger – the man keeping his gaze directed onto the door leading into the inn that they were approaching. Walking closely beside him, Pitch huffed a dark, little noise that came dangerously close to a chuckle.

_‘’Are we ever?’’_

Indeed, they never truly were.

Barely, the front door had been kicked open, before an awful screaming had pierced through the air – the scent of smoke and dust heavy, as Pitch made his way through the main hall of the ring that they had busted into.

Three omegas had been recovered so far, the fourth the one howling for salvation, as they were carried out of the small but excessively overworked joint. Bloodied and raw, the fifth that they found had been driven to the point of madness, the wide-eyed, unseeing gaze terrified – the omega used and left tied up in their heat, as they had been.

Rarely, one could recover from the trauma of such.

On both sides of where he walked, jars full of a clear liquid littered under the boarded up windows and clustered in random patterns along the wall as well – thin, long, powdered sticks leaning against the inner glass edge of each one of them. With an impassive hum, Pitch recognized them for what they were - the artificial incense used for strengthening an omegas natural biology stinging his senses and burning at the corner of his eyes.

Highly illegal. Primitive and lame. A cheap gimmick for those who believed in placebos and weak excuses.

_In truth, they hardly did anything._

Still, the scent got stronger the further he went in, the powder under his nose helping immensely to block it out, but alas, not quite enough to keep off the headache it induced. To his left, he reached a door that had yet to be opened, the man stating his business before raising a hand to rapidly beat his knuckles against its worn-down wood.

No sound. Not even the subtle shifting of fabric indicating a possible escapee and so, the door soon swung open on rusty, squeaky hinges, the wood of it crashing loudly against the wall inside, from one harsh kick.

Immediately, the chained form curled up beside the bed inside jolted to attention - the links of the metal clinking softly against each other, as the figures’ head jerked in his direction. Sleepily, the same sharp eyes from months back blinked up at him wearily, before, startled, they widened in recognition, the boy licking his cracked lips, black circles under his eyes, voice rough, as he greeted Pitch on a thin, winded and slightly baffled,

‘’ _Hey_.’’

It sounded pained, weak, as the one small word rattled loose from his black, blue and yellow coloured throat to which, softly, Pitch hummed. The chains wrapped tightly around the others wrists could not be broken, the man mused, as he ran a hand over them.

‘’So, you come here often?’’ The boy rasped in what sounded like an attempt towards jest, as he shifted himself ever so slightly back and away from the other. Protectively, he held onto his left arm, the limb cradled against his own chest, as Pitch wrapped the length of the chains around his own wrist, boot settling against the pillar beside the boys head, before stemming against it and tugging hard.

‘’I'm Jack by the way. Thanks for… _You know_.’’ The boy tried as he scooted a bit further to the side, head bending on instinct, eyes squinted in a nervous fashion, as behind him, the wood started to groan from the strain of the abuse. While the pillar seemed to remain immobile, sturdier than the rest of the frame itself, the nails and clasps holding said pillar close seemed to be giving way ever so slightly. ‘’I appreciated the break a lot so uhm… yeah, _thanks. Thank you for that_.’’

Bit by bit, the wood of the bedframe splintered in quick, little bursts, before completely giving way with a harsh, dry _snap_ that sent Pitch staggering a single step back before he regained his balance.

 _‘’Don’t mention it.’’_ The man offered back on a clipped tone, as he dropped the cold, offensive metal to the floor, grabbed the boys chained hands instead and, despite the tensing of the other’s shoulders and slight fright from being touched so roughly, lowered them enough to slip out from under what remained of the beds now separated pillar. Immediately, as Pitch tugged the other to his feet, the boy jolted and hissed in a pained protest.

 _‘’My ankle is-‘’_ Jack yapped on a weak puff of breath, to which Pitch wordlessly adjusted his hold and for the second time in just as many encounters, scooped him up and carried him out. To their left, as they passed, an alpha that had attempted escape had been pinned to the ground, wrists caught behind their back in a grip hard enough to break bone.

‘’I-‘’ Jack tried, as the man brought him down the rest of the hall, the boy’s mouth hanging open, before he closed it again with a defeated, thoroughly tired sigh. His eyes remained uncertain – lids fluttering shut with a soft hiss spilling from cracked lips, as the harsh light of day greeted them outside.

Already ready as they were, Pitch handed the boy over to the paramedics waiting outside, the chains bent apart with a set of mean-looking pliers, clear clangs ringing out as they fell against the dirty ground, before Jack was wrapped up in fuzzy, warm blankets. A cloth, which would help with the shock that he clearly was not experiencing, was pressed to his mouth by an insistent hand then, keeping it in place, even as the boy resisted its presence. Somewhere, in the back of one of the two cars behind them, the fourth omega was still engaged in their panicky screaming.

_A mess. It was quite a mess and somehow, Pitch knew that it was about to get a whole lot worse._

A breeze swept over the area then, making the withered trees lined neatly along the sidewalk sway in its wake, the wind carrying with it a hint of salt in the air from the nearby sea, which, if only for a moment, thinned out the press of the filth and decay. For a beat, Pitch allowed himself to breathe in the fresh relief, before raising a hand to tab the tip of a finger against the small oval device curling up the shell of his right ear.

‘’How far are we?’’ He demanded - the man feeling the boys gaze drill into the back of his head, as he reentered over the inns cracked threshold. Somehow, Jack had looked more trapped than he had while in chains, as the beta in front gingerly touched his trapped by blanket arm, and pressed for answers, to what the omega possibly knew, of the place that they were currently searching through.

A lot, perhaps. Maybe nothing at all. Still, Pitch did not humor his uncertainty one bit.

As the man’s boot met rich, dusty old carpet again, static buzzed in his ear, before the voice of his partner filtered through the intercom.

 _‘Mostly clear.’_ Bunnymunds gruff voice insisted. _‘Found a hatch in the cellars though. Looks like a bunch of coffins stuffed under the floorboards.’_

‘‘Preferably empty I take it?’’

_‘’Fraid not mate.’_

Softly, Pitch hummed in response before making his way to the end of the hall and then further down the flight of stairs leading to the basement. Abruptly, the scent of rotted wood and human waste told him what he needed to know, before he even arrived halfway through.

They had indeed not been empty.

\--

The used crowbar lay as silent, as the two alphas gazing down, at what had essentially been a makeshift grave, for what he assumed had been a small handful of unruly, unpaid employees.

The face of the one they had dug up had been melted away by what he imagined to be either a blowtorch or an open fire pit – or at least, those were the most common practices used when dealing with the destruction of any possible, later identification. The teeth were missing from all of them as well, knocked out and most likely crushed into a fine powder – scattered at sea or lazily dumbed into the nearby river.

In one case - which was how they had come to learn of that little trick in the first place - a fragment had even been found in a lump of freshly baked bread – the reason for the discovery showing itself, when an elderly omega had cut his inner cheek on it. After that, it had taken little less than three days to track the culprit down and ruffle him up for the type of interrogation whose aftermath would dress him up neatly in a body bag.

Beside Pitch, Bunnymund drummed his painted nails against his own bended knee.

‘’Think that might actually have been a beta.’’ Bunnymund mused aloud, as he gestured down at the resurfaced remains. ‘’Seems like a sloppy job though. Or maybe just hasty.’’ He gruffed.

‘’How so?’’

‘’Well for starters, there’s still a faint scent coming from their gland.’’

Pitch would never not find that little ability of Bunnys disturbing, but he had to admit, it was useful. The man hummed in acknowledgement, as he tabbed a finger to the device in his ear in order to shut it off.

‘’What more can you tell?’’

Beside him, Bunnymund shrugged. ‘’Southern district. Smells like curry for some reason.’’

Pitch felt a brow arch, as he briefly glanced at the other. ‘’Curry?’’

‘’Yeah. Like really dry but rich in intensity.’’ Bunnymund said, as he leaned down, one calloused hand curling around the edge of the hole in the cellars floor that they had ripped open. ‘ _’Fresh_ , even. I’d say this one died about a week or so ago. Possibly less actually.’’

‘’Could you track it down?’’ Pitch asked, to which Bunnymund grinned wide with no real glee, a finger coming up to tab his own device active again, as Pitch did the same.

_‘’I can certainly try, yeah.’’_

-

The rest of the house had been searched through and while they found nothing more but a dead bird, which was more bones at that point than solid waste, a sense of neglect still lingered heavily in the air of the inns cheaply perfumed halls - remaining trapped within, as its inhabitants all took their final and long overdue leave.

\--

‘’You know,’’ Bunnymund started, the man tabbing his fingers to the firm leather of the steering wheel, as they waited for the light to change ‘’this might seem a bit sudden given everything, but have you considered calling Nightlight in for a favor?’’

‘’Absolutely not.’’

‘’It might be worth it.’’

‘’And it is out of the question.’’ Pitch said, as he shot the other an annoyed look. ‘’He is more trouble than we can afford right now.’’

‘’You don’t know that.’’

‘’Oh but I _do_.’’ Pitch pressed. Beside him, Bunnymund merely shrugged a tattooed shoulder.

‘’I dunno mate.’’ He insisted. ‘’I think you judge too fast.’’

‘’And you hardly judge enough considering what happened last that we-‘’

 _‘’Which is what got us information on the joint in the first place Pitchy, don’t be rude.’’_ Bunnymund rasped on a dry note. ‘’One deal turned bad, yeah, I _know_ , I was _there_. Still, we already got a few favors through that we can’t exactly mark down for the records,’’ he pressed, just as the light flicked to green. ‘’what’s one more if it means finding the last fucker who was in on this one?’’

With a bit more force than was strictly necessary, Pitch sharply breathed in. ‘’We do not know for sure if there were truly only three people running it.’’

‘’Tooth claims so.’’

‘’And Tooth could easily have been fed false information.’’

For a beat, the two fell silent – the subtle roar of the engine loud, as they combed the Southern district through for any possible leads. Then, it was Bunnymunds time to scoff.

‘’You really don’t trust a single of your mates, do you?’’

‘’Not one bit.’’ Pitch snapped right back. ‘’And you are alive for that very reason.’’

‘’Ey, don’t start on track records, I’ve saved your ass once as well.’’

‘’Last I checked, that situation happened solely due to the fact that you called Nightlight in for a fa-‘’

 _‘’Right, I get it already.’’_ Bunnymund interrupted the other. _‘’You don’t want to thank me.’’_

‘’I have nothing to thank you for.’’

‘’Bullshit, and you know you do. You’re just being stubborn.’’

With a slight roll of his amber eyes, Pitch sighed, as he let the back of his head come to rest against the car seat.

‘’Thank you for busting me out of the resulting ambush of your ridiculous antics.’’

‘’Ey, there we go, that wasn’t so hard was it?’’

_‘’Just focus on your driving.’’_

\--

\- Five days later -

Pitch drummed his fingers against his desk, the late night that he was having at the office soon to turn into an all-nighter, if he did not close up within the next couple of hours. Despite haven managed to track down the source of the scent - a specific curry stand near the stairs leading down to the city’s underground train station – they were starting to realize the impossibility of locating exactly how it was linked to their deceased beta.

Already, the case of the joint that they had busted seemed as dead of an end, as it could possibly be and regardless of the fact that they had managed to apprehend two out of what was supposedly three alphas, the last seemed too illusive, a ghost, and it irritated Pitch to no end. None of the people that he spoke to would tell him anything specific, but he existed though, that much _was_ a certainty - there were simply too many vague comments made from the recovering omegas for him not to. One thing remained clear however, the truth sticking to their tone as they spoke; whoever he was, _they were terrified of him._

\--

‘’Did you ever talk to the last one that we pulled out of the joint?’’ Bunnymund asked as they went over what reports that they had on the cold case – the men trying to pierce it together, find a pattern, a hint, that could possibly show even a glimmer of a new lead. ‘’The white haired one I mean.’’

Idly, Pitch pushed an older case open and briefly skimmed over its details. Something about the coffins that they had found at the inn seemed familiar, but for the life of him, he could not seem to remember why.

‘’I thought you already did so.’’ He finally answered on a thoughtful hum.

‘’I mean yeah, I did, but he didn’t wanna talk much at all.’’

‘’None of them do.’’

‘’Nah, but that one knows something.’’ Bunnymund pressed. ‘’And besides, he seemed to like you.’’

The case beneath Pitch’ fingers told of seven corpses found in the river, all tied up and rotted beyond recognition. ‘’Whatever it is that you are implying with that last part.’’ The man started on a low note, as he looked over the aged photo of one of the victims, the face of the omega depicted, likewise burned out, as the ones in the cellars had been. From what he could recall, one of them had still been alive when the water swallowed them up. ‘ _’Don’t_.’’ Beside him, Bunnymund rested his chin to his fist, the man reading over a paragraph of one of the cases that he himself had brought forth.

‘’He was clearly experienced in the whole business.’’ Bunnymund pressed. ‘’He knew how the joint was run. He might be of use.’’

‘ _’You seem to be having a theme with your conversations these days_.’’ Pitch remarked dryly, to which the other shrugged a noncommittal shoulder.

‘’Just pointing out the obvious.’’ Bunnymund said. ‘’And it’s not as if we actually know for sure where to look. We need help. _This_ ,’’ he continued, as he tabbed a finger to the case that Pitch were still reading through ‘’seems a shot in the dark.’’

‘’So? When did that ever count as a bad thing?’’

‘’Never. But we are running out of time.’’

For a beat, Pitch paused in his reading, brows knitting together, as he briefly glanced at his partner. ‘’Explain.’’ He said on a more careful note. Again, Bunnymund shrugged.

‘’Look, I can’t say anything for sure, but this,’’ he said, as he gestured out at the clustered table before them ‘’this is bad. Something’s up. Something’s up and it’s gonna get worse. It’s gonna get a _whole_ lot worse and if that boy knows anything, then we gotta use it while we still got time.’’

With a hum, Pitch put a mark in the case that he was reading through, the man closing it up, before directing his full attention onto the other – his tone low, full of suspicion, as he slid the case away and out into the mess of folders and old reports littering about. ‘’What are you saying?’’ The man asked, to which Bunnymund merely regarded him for a long, poignant moment.

‘’I’m saying that he knows something.’’

‘’So you said,’’ Pitch gruffed ‘ _’twice_.’’

For a third time, Bunnymund shrugged, eyes narrowed, as he lowered his head to stare at the other. ‘’You realize that he got put into intensive care right? His brain is gonna get fried in the next couple of days.’’

‘’Which is none of our business.’’

‘’It is if he’s got information that can put an end to this.’’ Bunnymund pressed, as he once more gestured out at the numerous cases beside them. For a beat, the two merely glared at each other. ‘’The rest clocked out with a clean slate but Jack wanted to be there. You _know_ what that means. You _know_ what they do to a degenerate like that.’’

_He did. He very much did._

As the laws dictated, omegas were only supposed to take one mate through their time. Some had two, but more than that were rare and strayed into the downright illegal territory. As such, the rings went against an omegas very nature and from what Pitch had gathered of the boy, Jack had been through at least five different rings already. With a tired huff, Pitch lowered his gaze to where the others far too colourful blazer hung open – a few scars visible across Bunnymunds chest under the thick, flashy golden chains that the man so seemed to adore. In front of him, Bunnymund tabbed a finger to the spot under his eye, lids blinking slow, as he fought to get his point across.

‘’They won’t show mercy.’’ He insisted, to which Pitch hummed.

‘’And what would you have me do about that?’’

‘’What is in your right.’’

_Ridiculous. All of it._

‘’It’s the best shot we got on our hands mate.’’ Bunnymund pressed. ‘’It seems stupid to waste it.’’

_Still. Rules were rules. Laws were laws. If an alpha were to claim Jack as a mate, then the state could not touch him without that alphas strict consent and really, Pitch could not deny that the other was right - this really was the best chance at making any tangible change that they had had in years. Whoever the illusive alpha was, he needed to be caught – that much was a certainty and as it stood, Jack was by technicality unclaimed and Pitch still had no mate tied to his name._

_He had the power to do this. It was in his right._

With one final sigh, Pitch’ hand fisted where it had come to rest against the desk, eyes squeezed shut from the beginnings of an insistent headache, voice annoyed, as he gave up and accepted defeat. ‘’You’ll owe me for this.’’ He said, to which the other grinned wide in triumph, the man patting his shoulder lightly, before shoving past to leave for the night.

_‘’Gotcha.’’_

\--

The needle holding the tracker effortlessly pierced through the bruised skin of the omegas neck, Jack wincing from the sting of it, flinching slightly, but otherwise remaining seated in the cheap plastic chair that he had been shown to.

Like this, even if he ran away, Pitch could easily find him.

The boy licked his cracked lips with a hint of nervous tension running through him, as he dubiously eyed the additional sets of prepared syringes lying ready on the small metal tray beside him, before he directed his confused gaze onto Pitch’ own – the question there, loud in his wild, sharp eyes, though he would not voice it aloud.

Just as well, Pitch was not in the mood for explaining any of it. Still, for all sense and purposes, the boy was taking the whole ordeal surprisingly well.

As for the ride home - well after the forms of the boys release had been filled out and delivered back into the hands of an indifferent looking beta - it was spent in an uncomfortable silence – Pitch’ passenger’s expression carefully void of any emotion, as the boy kept his stunned gaze fixed onto the moving road ahead. Quietly, Jack followed Pitch over the threshold, his eyes quick to dart around, skimming over the landscape and the house itself, seemingly mapping it out and filling the information away for later.

_Whatever he wanted to do with said information, Pitch hardly cared._

‘’Take your shoes and coat off before you enter.’’ The man said, as he did the same as well – a small hum that sounded more like a growl escaping his thin lips, as a bit shakily, Jack did as told. ‘’Now go up and wait for me.’’ He said, before gesturing to the first step of the stairs leading up to the second floor of the house.

Behind, the boy had stopped dead in his tracks.

‘’Look, I-‘’

 _‘’Did I make myself clear?’’_ Pitch snapped, as he whipped his head around fast enough that the other visibly flinched and stumbled a step back. For a beat, those gleaming eyes widened in fright, the boy seeming unsure, as he pressed his hands together, bowed his head and nodded once. ‘ _’Good_.’’ The man praised in a way that definitely was not genuine, before pressing on and stalking further into his home.

Still, Jack did not follow.

‘’I haven’t-‘’ Again, the boy cut himself off, as Pitch tensed in obvious anger and once more turned to face him.

‘’You haven’t _what_?’’ He clipped coldly, to which the other shuffled his feet, cracked bottom lip quivering, as he kept his gaze directed onto anything but Pitch himself. A few times, the boy seemed to almost form words, but for several tries, they failed to be coherent. Softly, clearly tired, Pitch cursed under his breath as he waited.

‘’I haven’t… _They didn’t…_ ’’ Jack tried again, as his head lowered further. ‘’They didn’t-… _they kinda didn’t feed me for the past two days?_ ’’ He finally managed. Despite his posture remaining tense and annoyed, the utmost fleeting hint of pity did flash through Pitch’ amber eyes.

‘’And so?’’ The man challenged with an arched brow. If anything, finally, it seemed to bring a bit of spirit back in the boy, his thin shoulders falling in exhausted disappointment, as he met the others glare head-on.

‘’So?’’ Jack parroted. ‘ _’So?_ I’m fucking _starving_ you prick.’’

Unfazed, Pitch merely gave a stiff huff in return.

‘’I do not intend to deny you sustenance.’’

‘’Could have fucking fooled me.’’

‘’Language, Jack.’’

 _‘’What of it?’’_ The boy rasped right back, to which the other inhaled sharply, fingers flicking towards the high ceiling, as Pitch turned and headed for the kitchen.

‘’Mind it.’’ The man gruffed sternly. ‘’Now,’’ he said as he got out a rather generously sized bucket from under the sink, poured water into it and mixed a fine powdered coffee in as well ‘’go up and wait. You will be fed after we are done.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, the idiots talk and work out a few differences, or, alternatively, Pitch is a jerk and then he stops being a jerk.


	3. Be still; be kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idiots talk and finally start to get along, if only a little.  
> Also *cries in retail*, I might have been channeling a bit of my frustrations over not being able to leave at my old job at the end here. If a client went well over closing time (we are talking up to one and a half hour) you had to pretend like that was totally fine and no, nonono you were not one bit tired after your ten hour shift that was now approaching into the absurd, nope. Never. Na-ah.  
> \---
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of past assault, Pitch’ generally shitty communication skills, bodily fluids and a slight mental breakdown towards the end.
> 
> Aight, enjoy <3

‘’I don't like coffee.’’ Jacks voice was a small, unsure thing, as the soaked sponge danced over his skin.

‘’Neither do I.’’ The man hummed back, as he dipped it into the lukewarm coffee again, before repeating with the boys other arm. Not that Jack could not do this deed by himself, but he hardly trusted him to be thorough enough and so, none too gently, Pitch scrubbed at the boys skin, until it flushed a light red.

‘’I just-‘’ Jack said, just as Pitch tabbed at the boys neck to get him to lower it, in order for him to scrub at the back of it. Quietly, Jack did as wordlessly told. ‘’Why is this necessary?’’ He asked regardless to which, softly, Pitch hummed again, before replying.

‘’You reek.’’

_‘’Rude.’’_

‘’You have enough of different scents clinging to you that I can barely discern one from the other.’’

‘’And why would you even need to tell them apart?’’

‘’I don’t.’’ Pitch gruffed, as he let the used sponge drop into the bucket with a soft _splash_. ‘’But it is a distraction that I do not care much for.’’ The man said, as he handed the other a fresh towel. ‘’Now, let it sink in for five minutes or more, then wash yourself clean. Come down once you are done.’’

\--

The pipes in the walls groaned softly, as Pitch made dinner, the subtle rumble coming to an abrupt halt a good half hour later, as finally, the running water shut off. Now seated at his place at the kitchen table as he was, the man looked up, as the telltale sound of barefoot feet stalking hesitantly over the expensive marble sounded.

Quietly, Jack took his own seat opposite of the other, as Pitch ordered him to.

The boy kept sniffing at his arm, as he ate. At first, he had tried to be subtle, but hid it none, after he realized that Pitch had caught on pretty much immediately. Most likely, he had forgotten what his own scent was like. As the man put his fork down and proceeded to stare at the clearly out of element omega for a full minute, Jack swallowed something, the boy slowly lowering his arm to instead let it come to rest against the edge of the table between them.

‘’Are you going to fuck me now?’’

‘’No.’’

‘’But then why did you...?’’ Jack asked with a knitted brow, as he gestured at the arm that held no scents except for his own. His eyes widened, the horror clear, as a sudden thought crossed his mind and, when Pitch only lifted a brow in challenge, continued on a gruff, accusing note. ‘’So _what_ then?’’ The boy spat, eyes narrowed, as he eyed him warily.

‘’Calm down.’’ Pitch answered casually, the man staying as he was, relaxed and unbothered, as Jacks chair crashed against the floor, the boy grabbing the hilt of the steak knife hard and holding it out in front of him, as he stepped back.

_‘’Fuckin answer me you dipshit.’’_

The quiet lingered, as Jack stepped further back and away from the other, his eyes wild, as he kept side-eyeing the door.

‘’Sit down Jack.’’

A tad tense, the boy shook his head, causing Pitch to sigh slowly, before getting up. As the man stepped forwards, Jack met him step for step in a distrustful retreat.

‘’Give me the knife.’’

 _‘’No_.’’ Jack hissed through clenched teeth, his delicate frame trembling, as he glared in defiance. _‘’Why am I here?’’_

‘’Jack.’’ Pitch pressed, as he stopped in his tracks, the mans back straight, as he held out his hand towards the other. ‘’Hand it over.’’ He ordered, to which the other shook his head again.

 _‘’No.’’_ Jack snapped. ‘’Look, just-‘’ he continued in a much smaller, but just as firm voice. ‘ _’Please_. I don't wanna die.’’

‘’I do not intend for that to be a possible outcome.’’

_‘’Then what-’’_

_‘’The knife, Jack.’’_ Pitch barked, causing the boy to flinch from the sheer power put behind the command, before his sharp but momentarily subdued gaze fell, eyes staring stiffly at the floor, as he bit his lip, to keep it from quivering. Still, despite his best efforts not to, Jacks shoulders shook, as he stumbled a single step forwards and within grabbing reach. ‘’Hand it over.’’

The blade was cool against Pitch’ fingers, as it was held out for him to take. ‘’Good.’’ The man clipped. ‘’Now come. Sit.’’

Jack hunched in on himself, head bowed, as he quietly followed the other to a ridiculously large couch positioned closer to the wall instead. Promptly, so sudden that it made the edges jerk up with the movement, a paper and pen was put down on the table situated in front of him.

‘’I want all the names, places and other information that you can recall of the people that you have worked with.’’

‘’For.’’ The boy said, as he stared at the pristine white presented to him.

‘’Pardon?’’

‘’For.’’ Jack repeated, as he watched the other drag a chair close, sit down at the table as well, fold a leg over the other and lean back against its backrest. ‘’Worked _for_. Not with.’’ Jack insisted, to which Pitch’ hands came to rest in his lap, fingers flicking out in a silent gesture towards the papers, as he hummed a short, thin, impatient tune.

_‘’Go right ahead.’’_

\--

It became a routine after that. Pitch would make the boy breakfast in the mornings, while Jack wrote down everything that he knew, or possibly had an inkling of. A lot, it showed out to be, and Pitch would take that information with him to the office in the evenings, in order to let the numerous cases that he had access to, aid, in the gathering of any additional information.

Slowly, a picture was starting to knit itself together, a pattern visible, names and locations connecting and soon, Pitch would bring home some of the cases and pictures that had previously run cold, for Jack to point out, add onto, or merely try to further jock the boys memory. Unsurprisingly though, and seemingly not a cause of grief for the alpha, through it all, the omega would stay as far away from him, as he possibly could – the only interactions taking place, when it could not be avoided.

-

\- Four days later -

Fist to cheek, Pitch tabbed the pen against the paper that Jack had filled out the night prier, the mans brow arching, as he read through a paragraph detailing two omegas that had been trafficked from overseas. ‘’How would you know about this?’’ He asked with a hum, as he glanced at the boy in front of him. With faked causality, Jack shrugged.

‘’Heard ‘em talk about it after a session once.’’ The boy vaguely explained.

‘’And do they normally talk about such matters with you in the room?’’ The man pressed, to which the other once more shrugged, a tension now visible in his shoulders, as he huffed a little humorless laugh.

‘’Not always.’’

‘’Explain.’’

‘’I dunno.’’ Jack started, as he shrugged for the third time, his hand circling beside him, as he kept his sharp eyes directed onto his own writing. ‘’I guess they thought they’d knocked me out proper?’’ He mused. ‘’I can’t tell. I don’t know. I can’t exactly read minds.’’

‘’But you are certain of these facts?’’ Pitch pressed. ‘’Do they stand true?’’ The man asked. With a hint of annoyance, Jack seemed to suppress an eye roll, the boys tone clipped, as he spat out a quick, curt,

_‘’Yep.’’_

It would be three more days of relentless questioning, before Jack ran away.

\--

The whole process of calling up the operator to get the details of the lost omegas whereabouts was disturbingly easy – not nearly enough identification of the caller needed, before he was given the others exact location.

Idly, Pitch filed the note to up that serious flaw in security away for later.

-

A significant amount of snow had gathered on the sidewalk as he walked towards the little pinpoint of light further down the street – the café that the boy had invaded still open, but dragging itself towards closing time at a rapid pace. With a small, sleepy nod of the head, the beta at the counter looked up, looking the newcomer over, before seemingly, since really, there would be no other business for an alpha to conduct at such an hour in a place like that, pointed to a more shaded corner of the café.

With as little interaction as possible, Pitch ordered a single black coffee, before he strode over and invited himself to the others table. Except for the defiant closing of his eyes, Jack did not look up or give any other indication that he was aware of the mans presence – the omega curled in on himself as he already was, lips tense and set in a tight frown, as Pitch drank his coffee in silence.

Patiently, Pitch waited, the cup in his hand warm, as he watched the falling snow swallow up his own steps on the dark pavement outside.

Already late as it was, the beta that had suspiciously kept glancing at their wristwatch, got up, snatched a broom close and started to sweep the floors. Soon, though they would not dare ask an alpha to leave for such a reason, only a handful of minutes later, the sign was firmly flipped to ‘ _closed_ ’.

Finally, as Pitch drained the last of his coffee and put the cooling mug down, Jack opened his eyes, gaze cold and flintly, as he let out a slow, defeated sigh.

_‘’Go away.’’_

‘’You are in no position to order me around.’’

Silently, as the fidgeting beta made themself tea and sat down at the counter again to wait for them to leave, Jack began to cry.

‘’I won't help you.’’ The boy said on a mere whisper.

‘’You do not have a choice.’’

Softly, the frown turned into an actual pout. ‘’Why can't you just be _kind_ about this whole thing?’’

‘’How so?’’

‘’Just.’’ Jack said, as he wiped at his eyes a tad shakily. ‘’Less... Less _that_.’’ He said, as he gestured to all of him. With a small, indignant noise, he continued, when he only got a raised brow in return. ‘’Less stoic. Less _cold_. You act as though you're gonna chop me up and cut me into tiny little pieces, that you and all your fbi friends are gonna eat with a slice of wasabi if I don't answer your questions fast enough. It's unnerving.’’

Pitch hummed, as he tilted his head ever so slightly. ‘’Truly?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ Jack grumbled. ‘’You're... I dunno. You're scary. You're _scaring_ me.’’

The quiet lingered for a beat, the beta at the counter rubbing the tip of a finger to their own, steaming mugs edge, as they sighed, wristwatch once more flashing, before they looked out to the deserted sidewalk with a longing expression.

Again, Pitch hummed, before looking back to Jack.

‘’Would you come home with me?’’

‘’I don't want to.’’

‘’And if I promise to let you take your time with the answers?’’

Jacks brow furrowed, his nails drumming against the table between them, as finally, he uncurled himself enough to lower a hand onto it. One leg bravely moved as well, bare feet dirty and cut from what looked a piece of glass, as they came to rest against the tiled floor. ‘’What are you gonna do with me once all of this is over?’’ He asked, the boys eyes puffy but determined, as he looked up. ‘’What’s gonna happen to me?’’

‘’Depends.’’ Pitch answered him, the side of his wrists grazing the tables’ polished wood, as he laced his fingers together and leaned forward.

‘’On what exactly?’’ Jack pressed.

‘’Depends on where you wish to go from there.’’ Pitch said. ‘’This could take years to complete. Wherever your desire to go lies, it can easily change in that span of time.’’ He concluded to which, confused, the boy rapidly blinked – the meat of his palm quick, as it shot up to smear the resulting tears out from under his eye.

‘’So what, does that mean I get to go free after all this is done?’’ Jack asked and curtly, Pitch nodded.

‘’Indeed.’’ The man answered and abruptly, Jacks hand froze where it rested against his reddened cheek. For a beat, silence fell over the small café – the beta at the counter folding their arms and leaning down far, forehead smacking against the wood with a frustrated groan, as they completely gave up pretense.

‘ _’Oh_.’’ Jack breathed softly, gaze fixed onto nothing in particular, clearly stunned, as he thought the prospect over. ‘’Well.’’ He said, as he slowly lowered his hand to the table again, dark lashes flashing, as the boy blinked thrice. _‘’Okay then. That… I can live with that.’’_

At the counter, the beta lifted their head enough to drain the last of their tea, the mug scrapping over the counter with a subtle whine, as they slid it away from themself. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, Pitch once more looked back to Jack - the alpha opting to ignore the silly antics taking place at the counter, as he instead leaned forwards and properly met Jacks lost gaze head-on. The boy bit at his lip, sharp eyes faraway but directed at the man, as he opened his mouth to speak, before seemingly losing his nerve. Defeated, his shoulders fell, as he sighed.

‘’My heat is coming up.’’

‘’And?’’

‘’I want you to be there for me.’’

With another little tilt of the head, Pitch lifted his laced fingers off the table, the tips visible, as he briefly spread them out. ‘’I will not sleep with you.’’

‘’I'm not asking you to.’’ Jack huffed in what sounded like annoyance. ‘’I just don't want to be alone. It _hurts_. It feels wrong.’’ He pressed and Pitch did not look away, as the boys sharp, narrowed eyes bore into his. ‘’Even if you don't wanna fuck me, it'll help to have you there. You don’t have to do anything, just _be_ there. No more, no less.’’ He concluded. ‘’So, will you do it? Would you give me at least that in return for whatever info you think I can give?’’

Pitch contemplated it for a beat. Really, there was no other answer to such a request and so, he nodded. In front, Jacks shoulders fell in visible relief.

-

The lock slid shut the second that Pitch trod out and made it onto the cold sidewalk, the tired-looking beta clearly relieved, as Jack followed behind and out of the now firmly closed café.

\--

Two days passed in relative comfort, before Jack started to feel warm and increasingly, as the day progressed, he wore less and less clothes, before finally, he was left only in a pair of oversized slacks.

Eventually, Pitch arrived home from a long day at the office; no words spoken between them, as the man quietly entered through the door to the kitchen and closed it behind him. Silent still, they stayed, as he fished out the medicine that would help dull the symptoms and deal with the worst of the discomfort caused by the heat. With a shaky palm, Jack accepted the pills, the boys gaze lowered, cheeks red, as he downed them dry and though it was a losing battle, fought to sit still, as Pitch calmly ate his supper.

As the evening set in and gave way to night, Jack was a sweating mess – the omegas legs and inner thighs dampened with slick, the boy clearly uncomfortable despite the drugs in his system, as the man got up and guided him to the couch.

Allowing the other a bit of fleeting privacy, Pitch refused to look at the other, as the boy fingered himself - the resulting breathy pants and low moans obscene as they fell from Jacks mouth, causing Pitch a great deal of tension, as the alpha in him fought against its own instincts to lay the boy down on his back and claim him proper.

Idly - with Jacks head in his lap, Pitch’ own hand gingerly carding through his soaked, white hair, as the boy writhed and rode it out - he wondered if the whole thing was a test. It probably was, he thought, as an unnamed, shitty soap opera flashed on the screen before him.

By the passing of midnight, the first wave was over.

-

Still on the couch, the boy had mumbled something too low and incoherent for him to catch.

‘’Pardon?’’ Pitch asked and a few times, those chapped lips lazily fought to work as Jack wanted them to, the boys eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed, as his slack hands twitched beside him. ‘’Water?’’ The man guessed and a tad stiffly, slowly, Jack managed the slightest of nods.

-

By the time the clock ticked into the early hours, Pitch - after haven carried him to bed after giving the boy a shower, dried him up and tugged him in, an ornamentally carved, silver bell left on the nightstand beside him, should he wake and be in need of aid while unable to speak - dragged himself to bed as well.

By morning, he found him collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, the boy clearly whole and intact, but haven been unable to walk up the flight again, from how hard his legs shook. With a barely suppressed yawn and a tired gleam in his amber eye, Pitch fed the boy another dose of the medicine, carrying him along, lying him down onto the fresh white sheets that he had dragged out over the couch to make it softer, before pressing past to make himself coffee.

As the third wave hit and wrecked through the boy a little ways past eleven in the evening, his heat finally ended.

-

11.32 pm - Message from: E.Aster

' _You stopping by tomorrow?'_

11.37 pm - Seen

' _Expect me sometime after lunch'_

\--

Jacks feet were visible over the back of the couch, the boy laying halfway spread-eagled, back to the makeshift soft seat of it, head bent backwards over the couch’ front, eyes impassive and seemingly unseeing, as he watched another lame, muted program on the television.

On the table in front of him, the breakfast that Pitch had made for him remained untouched.

Phone in hand and furiously typing away, the man sat down beside the hauntingly quiet other, amber eyes busy, as they skimmed over the received text that had just ticked in.

07.21 am - Message from: E.Aster

' _You both okay out there?'_

07.21 am - Seen

_'As well as can be all things considered'_

The screen went black as Pitch pressed the button to make it so, the man putting his phone away, before leaning back against the couch.

Beside him, the smell of coffee was strong – the source of it clearly not just stemming from Pitch’ own, steaming mug. Idly, he realized that the boy must have scrubbed himself clean with it.

A few minutes passed, before Jack broke the silence.

‘’Are you disgusted by me?’’ The boy asked on a low, indifferent tone, to which Pitch hummed a short tune, the mans brow lifted, as he glanced down at the soft curve of the boys tilted chin. Generously, Pitch took a swig of his coffee, before answering.

‘’No.’’

Jack let out a huff that sounded partly amused, partly disinterested, his voice weary yet uncaring, the tone as exhausted, as he looked. ‘’Then why won't you fuck me?’’

‘’Were you hoping that I would?’’

Stiffly, clearly hindered by his position, Jack shrugged. ‘’Not really.’’ He said as he closed his legs and gathered them to his chest, the boy hugging his knees, as he remained upside down on the disturbed sheets. Softly, Pitch let out a low hum. On the screen in front of them, some beta was locked in a fierce swordfight with an alpha, while, by the looks of it, behind, a quivering omega begged said alpha for mercy.

‘’Have you ever truly wanted to bed any of the mates that you have had?’’

‘’Clients, Pitch.’’ Jack said on a dry rasp. ‘’They had to pay my boss for it.’’

‘’But did you?’’ The man pressed to which the boy shrugged.

‘’Nope.’’

‘’Then why pester me for it?’’

Confused, Jack frowned. ‘’I'm supposed to, aren't I?’’

‘’Says who?’’

‘’Says society.’’

This time, it was Pitchs turn to shrug. ‘’To hell with society then.’’

Silence reigned for the slightest of beats, before Jack barked a startled laugh, which descended into a hearty belly laugh until his cheeks flushed red and his jaw hurt from grinning. Far too quickly, the laughter gave way to choked sobs, the boy shielding his face with his hands, the shallow breaths disturbed by hysteric hics and something that came dangerously close to hyperventilation. With a grit out whimper pushing itself out from between his tightly clenched teeth, the boy fell to the side, his fragile form shaking, as he curled into a ball on the couch.

As Pitch placed a hand to his trembling shoulder in silent comfort, he did not flinch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, the idiots put their minds together to figure out some stuff on the case of their murderous, illusive alpha.


	4. Hold back the night; Sink into the light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A certain character is way OOC to the point that I straight up changed the name as well.
> 
> Chapter was cut for length, so the next one is the last one. For now. We'll see. I kinda like the story itself even though it feels a bit rushed. Still though, I kinda didn't wanna drag it on for too long, so I hope it works as intended? We'll see.
> 
> ___  
> Warnings:  
> Mentions of murder, mentions of assault, mentions of suffocation, gun violence, general violence and tbh, if you've made it this far then you know what's up.
> 
> Aight, enjoy <3

The next morning, Pitch woke to find that Jack had made him breakfast, a mug of coffee already cold and ready at its side on the kitchen table. Swiftly, as the man let his eyes glide from the expensive marble of the kitchens floors and out into the living room beside, he found the boy on the couch, fiercely scrawling away at what appeared to be several papers - the cases that he had spirited away carelessly spread out around him, on the table, couch and floor as well. As Pitch lightly kicked some of the mess aside and curled a hand around the couch’ back to lean down and peer over his shoulder, Jack jolted in fright.

The usually sharp eyes were bloodshot and puffy, as they looked up at him and really, it did not seem as if the boy had slept a wink through the night. Idly, Pitch reached over the boys thin shoulder to tab the picture of a convicted con that had escaped them half a decade ago. ‘’Where did you get these?’’

‘’From your study.’’

‘’And why were you in my study?’’ Pitch demanded with no real scold in his tone, to which Jack shrugged.

‘’To get the files.’’ He said, Jacks hands swift, as they reached under the others arm to tug a selected pair of note-filled papers close. For a beat, they stared at each other, before Pitch gave a curt nod and gestured for the boy to move over.

‘’I know this guy.’’ Jack said, as he tabbed the same picture that Pitch had pointed to. ‘’His name is Emmanuel. Or Manny for short, but no-one calls him that anymore. Anyway, he fucked me last spring.’’ The boy said, as he tabbed one of the previously filled out papers that held information about his third ring out of five. ‘’He liked me. Said he wanted to purchase me and then brought me into the hands of…’’ Jack trailed off, the boy biting at his lip, as he tabbed the papers containing info about his fourth ring.

For a few beats, he remained quiet, some unnamed horror close in his eye, which caused his brow to furrow, before finally, he sighed. ‘ _’Fuck it_ , his name was Achille. Mean piece of shit but Emmanuel is worse.’’ He said on a slightly clipped grumble. ‘’ _Way_ worse.’’ He stressed, before completely falling quiet, shoulders hunched, pen clutched close in his grip, as he bit down hard enough on his lip that Pitch worried it would break.

‘’And from there?’’ The man pressed, after the quiet had started to drag into the more desperate territory. A tad stiffly, Jack shrugged, eyes blinking rapidly before going wide and unseeing, tongue careful, as it gingerly licked over the abused area of his lip.

‘’I dunno really.’’ The boy started after another beat of silence. ‘’Achille and Emmanuel kept in touch for about a year as far as I… _for as far as I could understand_.’’ He explained.

Patiently, Pitch kept quiet.

Eventually, Jack continued.

‘’They had a disagreement over an underage omega. Emmanuel wanted to keep them for himself but Achille didn't want to hand them over, so Emmanuel suffocated the omega with an extension-cord.’’

With a thoughtful hum, Pitch nodded, as he noted the fresh details down. ‘’Do you know the name of the omega and what happened to the body?’’ The man asked, to which Jack shook his head - the boys head seemingly heavy, as he settled his elbows against the table and raked his hands into his disheveled hair. Lightly, he tugged on it, before letting go with a sharp exhale. This time, as he looked at the other, a fleeting bit of the old flint had returned.

‘’Nope. Some of the others said they ended up in the river though.’’

Again, Pitch hummed, as he noted it down. ‘’Where did it happen?’’

‘’At the ring.’’

‘’Which was located where?’’ The man asked, to which Jack got off the couch, the boy grabbing one of the maps that had already been laid out close, before returning to his seat. As the boy thrice tabbed the tip of a finger to a point on it, Pitch marked it down.

‘’It's been moved since then though.’’

‘’Matters not.’’ Pitch hummed softly, before looking back to the boy. ‘’What else can you tell me of him?’’

Jacks brow furrowed, the boy sucking his swollen bottom lip between his teeth, as he thought it over. ‘’He smelled like pomegranates and cinnamon.’’ He said, as he rubbed his fingers together in front of his mouth. ‘’Like really dry but sweet at the same time. The scent would kinda... _pop_ with sweetness in between the dry, dusty undertone when he got aroused.’’

Carefully, Pitch nodded, as he filed the information away for later. ‘’What else?’’ The man pressed. Jack looked unsure if he wanted to say the next part or not, the boy silent, staring at nothing for a near minute, before finally, something in his eye ignited - a subtle spark visible, which seemed to fill him to the brink with a fierce, untamed determination.

As he locked his narrowed, sharp, lethal ice onto Pitch’ amber own, the intensity of the boys subtle, dignified rage sent a shiver down the mans spine.

‘’You remember the alpha that managed to run from my fifth ring? The one you kept pestering me about?’’ The boy asked and _oh - the taste of victory was a sweet, welcomed one._ Carefully, Pitch nodded again, pen ready, as he waited for the other to elaborate. Jack did not exactly have to though – the man already knew what he was about to say.

Again, the silence flooded heavily between them, the unspoken words hanging for both to see and in front, the boy merely grinned with no real glee, his hum curt, clipped around the edges, as he realized that Pitch had definitely caught on to what he was trying to wordlessly let on.

Just as well, if for the preservation of the boys already disturbed by unspoken terrors sleep, some things were better left unsaid. Even if the illusive alpha could not harm the other while under Pitchs careful protection, the damnable figure still clearly weighed heavily on the boys mind, and, if it brought him even a flicker of peace to stay silent despite the fact that he _had_ technically told, then so be it.

As though understanding and accepting that he was not expected to force the words aloud, Jacks grin morphed into a genuine smile, the barest of laughs, which was more of an exhale than any merry exclaim escaping him, as he had to direct his gleaming ice away from Pitch’ burning own.

Still, it seemed to crush the boy slowly, the implication of what he had just done visible from the slight nervous tension tearing at him and wordlessly, Pitch offered his hand to ease his fright. Hesitantly, Jack took it and held on for dear life.

‘’I dunno if you can use it, but he talked about hen fights a lot.’’ Jack continued, the boy clearing his throat, as he fought to push through the insistent lump in it. ‘’Said he'd gone to some underground bar out at main to watch it all go down. Sold some snow there as well a couple of times for him, so I think it’s the same place actually.’’

‘’Do you remember which one?’’

‘’As in which kind of sno-‘’

‘’Which bar.’’ Pitch clarified, before the other could finish. Softly, Jack shook his head.

‘’Think it had blue in the name though.’’ The boy said, as he worried at the edge of his oversized sweater. ‘’Blue... _Blue star or something.’’_

\--

The Blue Shark was apparently far harder to get access to than Pitch had first anticipated - its entrance only accessible through the tunnels running underneath the city, as it was. It took about a months’ worth of tedious, undercover investigation to get an invitation through, but when he did and the ornamentally carved doors finally slid open for him, the place was as high class, polished and clean, as Jack had described it to be.

Whisky in hand, Pitch positioned himself at the bar, the offer on his tongue tasting like salt and deceit, as he waited. It could easily be weeks or more – if it would even happen at all - before their wayward alpha showed up, but, as if by a strike of fate, their paths crosses only hours later.

The whisky had been exchanged for rich, black coffee when it happened - one of the betas that had asked if Pitch sold anything strong enough to knock a bull out eyeing him wearily at the end of the bar, no doubt too frightened to come near again, less Pitch glare them down, as he had the first time.

As the man turned and sent said beta the briefest of warning glances, they quickly looked away.

Perhaps, it was because he was a newcomer that no one else seemed to tread near him, or, perhaps, it was his foul demeanor backed up by the equally lethal stare, but, he was left alone for the most part and truthfully, the man preferred it that way. As for the Alpha that he was looking for, it was the described scent that gave him away - dry cinnamon in amongst a sea of sickening sweet coating and thickening in the air around him quick, as it pressed through like an unjustified, backfired spell.

Not that it was a particularly bad scent as per say, but the knowledge of its source made Pitch’ skin crawl with unrest. In one swift move, the man drained his coffee, amber eyes shifting to the target that had just positioned himself close by and idly, Pitch looked him over.

Despite the brutish appearance of his scruffy posture and thin, dirty-blond hair, he seemed a grey specter of a man, ordinary, small and round in his sand-coloured, too tight suit - an easily overlooked wallflower, not one that he would have excepted to be so foul and grim in his tasteless desires. With rough hands made for carving stone and smashing pretty things around, the alpha scraped a nail over the bars stained surface, a single hardened by work finger raising, as he called the bartender over with a subtle curl of it.

Unbothered in his own skin. Perfectly confident that the world could not touch him. He recognized danger when he saw it but cared for it none.

Pitch would let him drink half of his scotch before setting the stars in motion in order to crush that design and while truthfully, any talk of divine astronomy might have been a mild stretch, he remained as the hand of the law and he could and would very well act on its faltering behalf.

‘’Mr. Emmanuel?’’ Pitch greeted with the strength to move mountains trapped in his tone, to which the other barely flinched or else give off any indication that he had heard. Still, the edge of the alphas glass came to rest against the bar, expression annoyed, eyes narrowed in Pitch’ general direction at haven been interrupted so rudely.

 _‘’Who's asking?’’_ Pitch' thorn in the side drawled, the alphas voice as raspy and dry, as his scent remained, papery and rough, uncarved or in the very least shaped by years of labor - the edges weary, forceful, as they cut into his skin and made it itch. It was distasteful at best and while it was far from the first time that Pitch had met an alpha, who would press their authority through in even the plainest of conversations, he still despised its unnecessary appearance.

_Most likely, it would not be the last either._

‘’Would you truly care for my name in a place where such should not be uttered?’’ Pitch challenged and momentarily, he was blinded by the gold in the others sharpened teeth. _A shark_ , he thought as he watched the alphas lips part further in slight aggression over the cheap imitation of fangs.

_How fitting. He would have to make sure that Emmanuel got returned to his rightful element then._

‘’You already spat out mine.’’ Emmanuel retorted, as he turned his front ever so slightly towards the other. ‘’It’s hardly unfair to ask for yours in return.’’

_Well-spoken, he would give him that._

‘’Perhaps so.’’ Pitch remarked, as he slid his empty mug away from himself, the ceramic still warm against his palm, before he let it go. ‘’Perhaps not. Regardless, I have a proposition that you might wish to consider.’’

‘’I do not make bets with strangers.’’

‘’And while holding the knowledge of your name, I am hardly a stranger.’’

‘’Touché.’’ Emmanuel gruffed on a dry note, as he rested an arm to the bars edge and fully turned to face the other. ‘’But I’m still not interested.’’

A tad stiffly, Pitch shrugged. ‘’Perhaps you should be.’’ The man challenged, to which Emmanuel scoffed a low tune, scar-ridden knuckles cracking, as he narrowed his eyes at the other.

‘’Are you actively trying to get on my nerves?’’ Emmanuel drawled.

‘’How polite of you to notice.’’

For a beat, Emmanuel merely glared, gleaming eyes flashing with both anger and interest, before he tilted his head and treated Pitch to a measuring once-over. ‘’You’re deranged for talking like this.’’

‘’Indeed.’’ Pitch agreed on a small nod. ‘’But still, my offer stands.’’ He pressed and finally, it seemed the other cracked from curiosity. Loudly, with the hint of something unhinged close in the gesture, Emmanuel barked a crude, dour laugh that promised pain and great bodily harm should he not find the offer of any tangible value.

_‘’Which would be what?’’_

‘’I have two omegas at my ready.’’ Pitch offered without any hesitation, the man shoving the disgust down and continuing on, before the other could get a chance to further spread his contagious filth. ‘’Not quite of age and still unclaimed.’’

The alpha before him paused, a look of surprise written on his face, as he flashed a stained, toothy grin from the prospect.

‘’What the fuck would I do with that shit?’’ His mouth lied as the sweetness in the air _popped_.

In the end, it was the dilating of the others pupils that truly gave him away and without hesitation, Pitch sent a bullet right through the center of one of them.

\--

It ended up being another late night at the office, as Pitch reported the incidence as an investigation gone wrong - the weapon first drawn by a hand that had not been his and quickly, the situation had turned heated. From the mans testimony, Emmanuel had drawn the gun from Pitch’ own concealed holster and so, after a brief scuffle to regain control of the weapon, it had accidentally fired at point close range - unfortunately, as had been the direction of the muzzle at the time, directly into the alphas head, which had resulted in his immediate demise.

As for the fact that Pitch had stomped thrice on the now thoroughly deceased’ carved in face, and squashed his heel into the soggy mess for good measure, that was not details worth adding to, and so, it was left out. With a hum, Pitch offered his signature to the dotted line at the bottom of the page, the man closing it up and sliding it away from himself, before grabbing his coat to leave for the night.

As he reached the door, his phone buzzed in his pocket and already, he knew whom it was from.

02.32 am - Message from: E.Aster

_‘Did you seriously kill off our biggest lead?’_

02.32 am – Seen

Despite the fact that none of the officers that had stormed the bar after the first shot rang out would dare speak against his testimony, word still traveled far and faster than they could possibly control. A record, it still seemed, for his partner to have found out in only the span of three hours.

02.47 am – Message from: E.Aster

_‘Pitchy you fuckin bastard’_

02.47 am – Seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up... uh...? Slight damage control I guess. I dunno.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me this far <3  
> Last chapter will be up sometime this week.


	5. Happiness is a long shot - chase it anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda long chapter to wrap everything up.
> 
> ___  
> Warnings:  
> Slight nervous breakdown. Actually, I think that's all for once. Neat.
> 
> Aight, enjoy <3

Jack was dead asleep on the couch as Pitch came back, the boy snoring lightly, the remote fallen from his limp hand, as on the screen, the last, muted episode of the ridiculous soap opera with the clashing beta and alpha flashed. Stride swift, Pitch soon stayed with one knee to the floor, fingers pressed to it, the other on the remote, as he watched the drama before him unfold.

Poetic, he supposed it was supposed to be, as the omega threw themselves back into the arms of their alpha - the gesture clear, intentions pure, as they accepted the call of their biology. The meddling beta, meanwhile, was spared their life, but banned from the village in a comical scene, which involved too much theatrics, a broomstick and a whole lot of fine, white glitter.

Promptly, the screen went black, as Pitch banished the picture with a tab of his finger.

02.54 am – Message from: E.Aster

_‘Answer me’_

02.54 am – Seen

_‘Call Nightlight. We will need him’_

02.55 am – Message from: E.Aster

_‘You absolute piece of-_

‘’Pitch?’’ Jack said on a confused, sleepy note, icy, blurry eyes blinking up at the other, as the boy raked a hand over his eyes and rubbed at them. ‘ _’Hey_ -‘’ He said, as he started to sit up, before the man stopped him short with a hand against his thin shoulder.

‘’Just sleep.’’ Pitch said, as he onehandedly turned off his phone instead of reading the rest of the no doubt angry message.

‘’But-‘’ Jack argued, just as a powerful yawn cut him short. A tad incoherently, he grumbled something, before giving in and letting Pitch gently press him back down onto the couch.

‘’Where were you?’’ Jacks muffled by the couch’ back voice asked after him, as Pitch got up and strode the short distance to the kitchen.

‘’Why do you ask?’’

The boys hand was visible for a few seconds, before it flopped back down and out of view again. _‘’Got worried, 's all.’’_ Jack grumbled, as he by the sounds of it, fought against the pull of another insistent yawn. With a hum, Pitch loosened his tie, slipped it off, fingers swift and experienced, as they started to unbutton the lightly stained edge of his collar and then further down to the first two buttons of his shirt as well. Just out of the corner of his eye, Jacks disheveled head showed itself, as it poked over the edge of the couch. ‘’You okay?’’ The boy asked.

Gingerly, with as much thought and effort to keep the notion light, Pitch huffed a displeased tune, as he made brief work of his cufflinks - the metal clinking softly for attention, as they were discarded on the kitchen table.

‘’I was on a job.’’ Pitch started, just as Jack gave in, the boy yawning again, as he scratched at the back of his head. ‘’Emmanuel is no longer alive.’’ Abruptly, the scratching stopped, a pair of sharp, very much awake, disbelieving eyes staring at him, as Pitch turned and held the others gaze. For a few beats, they merely stared at each other, the silence heavy, poignant, as it remained filled with questions unspoken.

‘’You're joking. Right?’’ Jack said on a slow, careful note, which did not quite seem too keen on betraying his emotions towards such a ludicrous idea. As the man merely shook his head in response, Jack blinked back several times in rapid succession, the shock giving way to a desperate appreciation, which morphed into a buried sense of grief so strong that Pitch had to turn and walk away from it. Immediately, the man heard the fabric of the couch creak, as the boy vaulted himself over the back of it, his lithe form only stopping short, as it crashed into Pitchs back.

As thin arms wrapped around his torso and held fast, they shook.

‘’Jack.’’ Pitch insisted on a slight clip, as he heard the boy draw a shaky breath, which, by the sound of it, burned all the way down.

 _‘_ ’You're joking _.’’_ Jack hiccupped, the small sentence frail, thin and rising in pitch towards the end - the band around the man holding tight, as the boy squeezed with all the fragile might that he did not quite possess. ‘’You're _joking_.’’ He repeated the hopefully short mantra, just as Pitch forced his trembling arms away - the grip on the others wrists secure, as the man held them out enough for him to turn and face the rapidly deteriorating boy.

‘’What the fuck, you're-... _you're_... no, this isn't real, you're _joking_ , you’re _joking, this isn’t fucking real_.’’ He sniffed, this time low enough that his voice barely held together. As his trembling knees knocked together and completely gave out from under him, Pitch supported his fall. ‘’Fucking hell, just... _no_.’’

The press of Pitch’ hand remained gentle, careful in its approach not to spook further, as it settled against the others paling face. Slow, ridden with emotions and slightly coated by hints of despair, Jack sobbed weakly as he leaned into the offered touch.

‘’I am not. I would not jest on such.’’

_‘’What the fuck.’’_

_‘’Jack.’’_

‘’What the _fuck?!’’_

‘’You're hyperventilating.’’

 _‘’Pitch!’’_ Jack cried, as he clutched his hands into the fabric of the man’s shirt, sharp eyes wide and gleaming with hysteria, as he looked up. ‘’ _Pitch what the hell!’’_

With a slight curse spilling out under his breath, the man sighed, as he rubbed at the scent gland on his own neck, placed a hand to the back of the boys head and guided it forwards. A tad forceful perhaps, but it worked to calm him some.

 _‘’Pitch, please,’’_ the boy wetly pressed regardless, as he cried into the others chest ‘ _’please don't joke like this. Stuff like that doesn’t happen_. It _can’t._ It fucking _can’t,_ it’s not real, it _can’t be.’’_

With a hum, Pitch carded his fingers through the others hair, before moving the touch down to the base of the boy’s twitchy neck, keeping it there, until the restless muscle beneath stilled. ‘’He cannot harm you.’’ The man said. ‘’None of them can. Not again.’’ He insisted, as his free hand moved down to the small of the others back and pressed him closer still. _‘’Do you understand that?’’_ Despite the tiny notion of a nod hidden against his chest, the boy answered him none. For several beats, they stayed like that, before Jacks hand snaked around, snatching up Pitch’ own to press the back of it to his conflicted lips.

 _‘’Please?’’_ Jack said on a weak puff of a breath, as he clutched the hand in his to his chest.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’I need... I just-… I _need.’’_ Jack tried on a note caught between a desperate, deep-seated joy and ancient despair. ‘’Please just... don’t. _’’_ The boy rasped lowly. _‘’Just don’t let go right now.’’_

As Pitch tugged him forwards and into his lap, Jack went gladly. ‘’Like this?’’ The man mused, pecking a feather-light kiss to the others creased crown, before embracing him close again. ‘’Is this enough?’’ He asked, to which he once more felt the boy nod.

Softly, on a tune that sounded worn beyond his short years, Jack sighed, as he relaxed into it.

A few minutes passed in the heavy, exhausted silence that followed - the man haven just started to feel himself drift off despite his best efforts not to, when Jack spoke up again.

‘’Pitch?’’ The boy asked on a small, wondering tone, to which the man in question hummed. ‘’You really aren't joking about this?’’ He asked, causing the other to once more hum.

‘’I am not.’’

‘’If I give you any more names, would you kill them as well?’’

What Pitch could see of the sky outside of the window was dark, a few stars peeking through the light layer of clouds. ‘’Probably not all of them.’’ He answered eventually.

‘’But some?’’

‘’Depends on their crimes.’’ Pitch answered, as he traced a random pattern into the others back. ‘’Depends on whether or not they can be used to find further names or connections to those in the field.’’

‘’But if not, you would?’’ The boy pressed and softly, Pitch sighed, restless fingers stilling, moving up, to instead splay out over the span between the boys shoulder blades.

‘’Who are you hoping that I will kill?’’ The man asked in lieu of any immediate response. The other remained quiet for a good while, Jack avoiding his gauging, amber eye, as he seemed to contemplate on how to answer. Eventually, he did.

‘’My first boss.’’ Jack said on the barest of faux, casual shrugs. ‘’The one who got me off the streets after I ran away from home. The one who... _you know_... But I didn't. I _didn't_... I _didn't know_ what he was bringing me into. I really didn't.’’

On a short, thoughtful tune, Pitch hummed. ‘’How old were you at the time?’’ The man asked, to which the boy once more shrugged.

‘’I'm not sure. I don't remember exactly. Eleven maybe? _Twelve?_ I dunno, but it was around Christmas or something.’’ Jack answered, the boy clearing his throat before offering up another, though this time much slower shrug. As he drew back and finally braved himself to meet the others amber eye, his own remained red and puffy.

Still, the sharpness had stayed, the edges drawing strength from a raw, bleeding core, as it coated the ice with vengeful fury and bright, righteous hellfire.

‘’It’s kinda weird to think back on.’’ Jack gruffed, as he sniffed and tried to smooth out the folds that he had clutched into the others shirt. If he had noticed the light, red spotting littering over the pristine white at the top, then he did not comment on it. ‘’All the shops had big, bright displays and it was all kinda neat and lovely and sweet until the cold really started to get to me and I just... It just… _Yeah_. It got bad real fast once the sun went down and I kinda didn’t know what to do for the first couple of days. Somehow, I managed to pull through.’’

Patiently, Pitch kept quiet, the fingers still pressed to the others back moving up and lacing across the bend of the boys neck.

‘’Honestly, I don’t get how I didn’t freeze to death, but you know, _still here and all that,_ so that’s something I guess. Anyway, the cold got worse, and it _kept_ getting worse and I knew I wasn’t gonna make it through and going home was… It would have been the same kinda end, just slower and probably a whole lot more painful and really just…’’ The boy said, before seemingly running out of both breath and vitality – his spark dulled, flickering lower still by the onslaught and pressing dread of old consequences that truly, he was not to blame for.

Idly, Pitch argued as much.

‘’None of this is something that you could have foreseen.’’ The man urged, to which the other scoffed a dry, bitter note.

‘’But I should have though.’’ Jack rasped, as he cast his eyes down and glared into Pitch’ chest. ‘’Like yeah, everything got really bad and home would have been worse, and _sure_ , I didn’t really know what to do and going to any kinds of authorities would have just resulted in them bringing me back home which… you know. _Nope_.’’ The boy gruffed, as he ruined his careful work by once more fisting his hands angrily into the fabric of the mans shirt.

Carefully, Pitch nudged him a bit.

‘’And then you came into contact with your first handler?’’ The man asked, to which Jack nodded and rolled his eyes in slight annoyance over past decisions.

‘ _’Yep_.’’ The boy huffed.

‘’And then?’’

‘’He offered.’’ Jack said simply on a matter of fact tone. ‘’He offered, my boss- _fuckin piece of shit,_ and I just… I thought he was good enough you know?’’ He drawled sourly. ‘’He listened to my reasoning’s for not returning home and then offered to take me off the streets instead of dumping me in front of the station, and somehow, I thought it was a good idea to go through with, but I was wrong- _I was wrong and I didn’t know_.’’

The seconds ticked by in silence, stretching into a near minute, before Pitch nodded once in return, the man insistent, as he forced the others head up and met his rage and self-hatred head-on.

‘’None of this is your fault.’’

‘’Would you kill him?’’

_‘’Give me all the information on him that you can.’’_

\--

The impromptu teamwork became a pattern after that - Jack would talk and Pitch would piece together what he could from the information given and soon, while not showing results in a scheme that was anything truly remarkable, some of the old cases came to a much needed and overdue close.

\--

11.12 am - Message from: E.Aster

_‘I got a hold of Nightlight’_

11.37 am – Seen

_‘And?’_

11.37 am – Message from: E.Aster

_‘He’s in’_

\--

‘’This is a bad idea mate, you know that right?’’ Bunnymund, while approaching a healthy state of tipsy, as the two partners sat side by side at a low, worn-down bar, rambled, as he clinked his already drained glass against the side of Pitch’ in a great show of camaraderie, which hardly existed between the two. ‘’He says he’s in for free. Good grief.’’

With a hum, Pitch sipped at his whiskey, as they waited for their informant to hopefully show. ‘’Nightlight is never in it for free.’’

‘’I _know_ Itchy, that’s the fuckin problem- he’s up to something and it ain’t good.’’

‘’Has it ever been?’’

‘ _’Ey, don’t start_ , we’re here because of you.’’

Idly, Pitch shrugged, as he for the fourth time within the last ten minutes glanced to the window beside them, and out onto the river running free and untamed close by. ‘’I will not apologize.’’ The man said, to which Bunnymund snorted a quick burst of a laugh.

 _‘’Didn’t ask you to Ichy.’’_ The man gruffed, as he fingered at the edge of his empty glass, golden chains clinking softly and calling out with a clear chime, as he stood and approached the window that Pitch kept glancing to. ‘’Truth be told, I get it. I really do.’’ He said on a shrug, as he turned enough to cast a deceivingly sober glance in Pitch’ direction.

_It was incredible really, how fast the other could slip into any role that he wanted - any figure with a matching personality needed, if the situation so called for it._

‘’It was still a rash decision.’’ Bunnymund concluded after a short beat, the slur back in his voice, as he turned back to the window and pressed a palm to its cold frame.

‘’Perhaps so.’’ Pitch agreed, as he drummed his nails over the bars hard, stained surface. ‘’But as it stands, the field has been left in shambles in its immediate wake.’’ He argued. ‘’And, with a little force, it should be possible to get the last of the lingering fish to scatter from the sheer fright of its devastating potential.’’

‘’Only the small ones Picky.’’

‘’Only the smaller ones indeed.’’ Pitch replied on a hum, as briefly, he eyed the clock above his head.

_Any minute now._

After a small beat, Bunnymund stumbled his way back to his seat. ‘’There’s talk of a new alpha in charge of three rings already though.’’ The man said, as the tips of two fingers disappeared into the folds of his open, colourful shirt, to no doubt finger at the hilt of his concealed dagger. ‘’I don’t think we can avoid this one turning into a hydra.’’

‘’Then we aim for the heart instead of the head.’’ Pitch hummed on a shrug, as he briefly eyed the moonlit flow of the river again. ‘’And I highly doubt another would be in place already.’’

‘’She’d been planning it for a while as far as I could understand.’’ Bunnymund shrugged. ‘’We technically did her a favor.’’

‘’Did we now?’’ Pitch drawled with a snappy air of finality, before raising his glass to sip at it.

_‘’Christ you’re cranky tonight.’’_

‘’Perhaps.’’ Pitch agreed, as he let the edge of his glass come to rest against the bar again. ‘’Perhaps not. Still, Jack has confirmed it to be a false rumor.’’ He said and beside him, Bunnymund paused, eyes wide for a beat, before they narrowed in pained suspicion.

‘’He’s not back at it already, is he?’’

‘’Of course not.’’

_‘’Then what did-‘’_

‘’He asked to be put to work.’’

‘’And you _let_ him?’’ Bunnymund hissed on a low, clearly displeased note - his nose scrunching up, as though tasting something foul.

‘’What was I to do?’’ Pitch hummed, as he returned the half-hearted glare directed at him. ‘’Tie him up at home and forbid him leave?’’

‘’Nah, but it’s too soon is all I’m saying.’’ Bunnymund gruffed, as he shook his head in mild confusion. ‘’It’s not safe.’’

‘’And who are we to judge that?’’

‘’Pitch, it’s not, _safe_.’’ Bunnymund spat, the man practically forcing the last word out between grit teeth to get his point across.

‘’Society has never been safe for an omega. Besides, he stressed a promise to only use his eyes and ears for the sharp tools that they are.’’

‘’Are you actually being serious? _Christ_ , of all the ways that we could’ve-‘’ Bunnymund started on a hiss, before cutting himself short, as the door at the end slid open. For a beat, he remained quiet, back tense, shoulders falling from an obvious, sudden exhaustion. _‘’Aw hell, here we go.’’_ The man half growled in a way that sounded far more tired than the situation should have called for already.

Rapidly, the newcomer glided with purposeful steps towards the bar on a set of high stilettoes – the young thing covered in what seemed only a thin, translucent cloth that flowed behind and shone like a set of crushed up stars, fine, silvery glitter dancing on his fair skin, as he strode up and positioned himself between the two.

_A delicate item he seemed. In truth, he held enough strength to crush or bend the arm of any foolish assailant until their bones snapped beyond repair._

‘ _’So_.’’ Nightlight purred in delighted greeting, as he slung an arm over each of the alphas necks, drawing them close and pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks in return, letting them go, only after he had called the alpha at the bar over with a wave of his radiant hand. _‘’Should we get this party started?’’_

-

Indeed, as Nightlight soon confirmed over a heated game of poker, which involved a whole lot of winning on the formers part, the rumor had been false.

\--

\- Three months later –

Spring was in the air, a rich scent of fresh dew on dead winter leaves close at his side, as Pitch woke Jack up early in the morning, guided him to the car and drove off without much explanation as to where they were going.

-

‘’I'm not sure I can do this.’’

‘’I understand as much.’’ Pitch replied, as he kept a palm pressed to the back of Jacks neck in silent support – the boy quiet, staring straight ahead, as he seemingly refused to accept where they had gone.

‘’There's no justice in this.’’

‘’There cannot always be.’’

Tightly, Jack frowned, as he swatted Pitch’ hand away in a fit of annoyance, though instantly, he seemed to regret it, as he grabbed it with both hands and brought it into his lap instead.

‘’This isn't fair.’’

‘’Do you want me to go with you?’’

‘ _’No_.’’ Jack huffed a tad tensely, as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. ‘’No but... would you come get me if I stay out for too long?’’ The boy asked and gently, the man squeezed the hands holding his.

‘’Of course.’’

-

Some of the graves that he had passed by had been clean and well kept, rich scents coming from the blooming flowers left behind by the hands of grieving relatives.

This was not such a grave.

A tiny little thing it was, the stone worn and neglected, the scents and flowers nonexistent. Abandoned. Forgotten. As for the man below... _Jack had never forgotten about him._ Every day, he was reminded of what that little offer of false liberation spilling from his lying tongue had left to. How badly it had messed him up.

‘’I hate you.’’ Jack said, as he stared at the shitty excuse for a tombstone. ‘’I really fuckin do.’’

With a hint of angry vigor, he kicked at the gravel at his feet. ‘’But it's funny, isn't it?’’ The boy grinned with no humor present in his voice. ‘’I'm alive. And you get to rot here. Judging from the death-date, you're just a skeleton at this point, aren't you? A pile of bones. Nothing. You’re nothing.’’ He said, as the tip of his sandal caught on a rock, which bounced harmlessly against the cracked stone before him.

‘’I'm not afraid of you.’’ Jack said and knew it to be a lie. ‘’I hate you, but I'm not afraid of you. I'm not-‘’ The boy huffed on a grin that broke at the edges. With an annoyed little noise rattling through from his constricting throat, Jack raised his head, as he blinked rapidly – the boy refusing to cry, but knowing full well, that he could not hold it in. ‘’I hope you died screaming.’’ He roughed. ‘’I hope someone laughed in your face as you crossed over, you _sick piece of shit.’’_

Idly, he registered as the gravel crunched on the path behind him.

‘’Garbage. Fuckin waste of flesh, that's all that you are. All that you _were_.’’

Politely, Pitch kept at distance, the man giving space in the face of nothing else to offer up without being asked to.

Carefully, Jack cleared his throat to rid it of the worst of its tension. ‘’I'm alive.’’ The boy said again. ‘’I'm alive and you're not. You cannot harm me.’’ He smiled, as he looked down at the sad little rock – his tears tasting like salt but a great deal of triumph too.

‘’Not again. Not _ever_.’’ Jack breathed out on a slow exhale to himself, as he turned and stalked away from the lonely little rock - the first genuine smile in ages breaking over his face, as he did so.

_‘’Not anymore.’’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I like how short this ended up being, but it did not feel as if it needed anymore length. A lot of the stuff that’s going on is implied and I dunno. I kinda liked this style of writing? Anyway, please let me know what you thought of it. In the meantime, I’ll get my butt back over to ‘Embrace the storm.’
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


End file.
